Raistlin's Love
by eosphorosa
Summary: Raistlin fights his human instincts towards a building love for Crysania and loyalty to his goddess and his ambition to be a god himself.
1. Thinking of her

Raistlin watched Crysania cross the courtyard of the temple, and wondered if anything else on this earth had been made to be more beautiful than she.  Since coming back in time, before the Cataclysm, she had changed her severe hairstyle for one more suiting and her skin took on a healthier flush than it had before.  Her grace was astounding, and he always found himself trying not to goggle while in her presence.  He had seen many a beautiful woman in his time as a missionary with that dolt of a brother of his, but none so beautiful or intelligent as Crysania.  He watched as she was stopped by that idiot of a kender Tas, well not really an idiot, he did have some sense after all.  It seemed the kender had something urgent to say to Crysania, or else he wouldn't be so paranoid.  Seemingly forever, is what it took for Tas to relay his message to the lady, and Raistlin was growing impatient.  He had to see her.  Not really for any particular reason, only to see her.  Oh, he would make his excuses on how he needed her to come with him; that helping him was not evil, but doing the world a favour. 

Finally Tas let Crysania go, and she sped into the temple with a few hurried words to the guards.  Raistlin made ready to see her, which wasn't much considering his fairly simple lifestyle.  Aside from the concoctions he had to take periodically he really did live simply, he didn't need all the clothes and other garb; things that people seemed to think necessary for a Hero of the Lance.  He built the fire back up, despite the pre-cataclysmic heat, and set some incense burning.  Not the intensely sweet incense that the clerics burned in the temple, but a muskier wilder scent that kept your senses awake instead of ensnaring them and making them fall asleep, like the scent used at prayers.  He had never really deigned to preen himself too much, even when he had been a missionary; but now he looked in the mirror that had been set out for Fistandantilus' use, seeing not the gold skin and hourglass eyes, but the old familiar dark brown eyes and pale skin he had once owned.  Remembering the day Crysania had seen him in the chambers of the King Priest, he smiled to think of her reaction to his change of appearance.  She had only known him with the gold skin, and had not recognized him.  Her reaction had pleased him somewhat; it was nice not to have someone gasp in his presence for once.  His hair was dark brown again, like it had been, and a little past shoulder length.  He missed this, the way he had looked before.  Even though he had always been "sickly", he had liked the way he looked.

"Goddess damn you, Fistandantilus!" he muttered bitterly into the twilight air. 

He had killed the man already, but the long term effects of what that man had done were still there.  Hearing a gasp behind him, he turned to see Crysania standing in the doorway.  Of course, she had never heard him curse before now, and it must be a shock for her to hear such words come from his mouth.  Standing slowly, he motioned for her to come in and waved the doors shut behind her.  

Not having the hourglass eyes made the whole world seem different now.  He was able to see things as they were, not as they would look in death; including Crysania.  Even with the shock of his words, he could see that she was comfortable in his presence and she looked at him in a strange way.  He could not place the look no matter how he racked his brain, it did not make him feel uncomfortable or anything, quite the contrary, and he rather liked the way she looked at him.  She came closer to him, her dress falling around her in graceful folds and her eyes shone in the dim twilight.  He could feel her warmth as she drew nearer; smell her light perfume as it wafted from her in strong waves.  Knowing he must say something, he struggled for words that simply would not come.  He stood firm, determined not to back away from her; she had a very determined look in her eyes, and it made him wonder just what he had got himself into.  He reminded himself that he "really" had called her here to discuss the fact that she would be a great asset in his mission, but that was promptly thrown out the window as she came to a stop a little less than two feet away from him.  She came up to his jaw line; and he, though being twin to Caramon, was not the tallest man in the world.  

Looking down at her, he noticed that she seemed uncertain of something; as if she wanted to ask him a question but was afraid he'd deny her an answer.  This concerned him as had never really felt this way about anyone before, in fact he'd never cared if anyone was uncertain about anything unless it was himself.  

"What's wrong?" he asked concernedly.

She didn't answer him, but dropped her head and studied her hands.  Drawing nearer to her, he put his hand on her chin and gently made her face him. 

"You can tell me, I'm not likely to tell anyone now am I?" he asked, smiling slightly.

She smiled, and looked up at him and into his eyes.  His heart melted right there, and everything he had been planning to say, the excuses he had made to why she was there, were all thrown out the window.  He knew nothing but her eyes, which were dark pools full of emotion.  Not realizing his hand was still on her face, he began to gently stroke her cheek.  Without warning, his vision was heightened and he found himself looking into what seemed like a scene from the future.

_Raistlin walked across a clearing of wildflowers looking out over the horizon.  He could see the outskirts of the town coming ever closer as he himself came ever closer to Crysania and home.  He shifted his staff to his other hand and quickened his pace so as to get there faster.  The first houses were just beginning to come into sight around him, and other late travellers greeted him from the road.  The tavern and inn were becoming bigger shadows in the slight twilight that filled the village, and he stepped aside as a band of children ran past him hurrying to get home before first dark.  A little girl, who was the smallest of them all, came straggling after and gasped as she ran into him.  He smiled down at her and laid his hand on her head, saying a spell of strength over her before sending her on her way.  The little girl smiled up at him and ran off to join the others who had just realized she was missing.  He waited to make sure she made it to them before going on.  _

_Finally reaching the inn, he made his way around it to the magnificent house that belonged to his brother and Tika.  He walked up to the door and knocked out of courtesy.  He heard the latches begin to unlock, and voices behind the door and a great rustling before the door was actually opened.  Tasselhoff Burrfoot stood at the door with Tika behind him, who had apparently been trying to wrestle something from his grasp that had managed to "find" its way into one of his pouches,  _

_"Raistlin!" Tas said excitedly, "It's about time you came; Crysania has been worried all day!"_

_Stepping in, he reached out to gather Tika in a hug and keep Tas from "accidentally" finding anything from his pockets.  _

_"Where is Crysania?" he asked hurriedly, he hadn't seen her in over a month._

_"Up in your room, she went to bed early after the crowd began to get big at the tavern." Replied Tika as she stepped back to survey him. "Are you sure you wouldn't like some supper first? I could get you some from the kitchen if you'd like."_

_"No, thank you.  I think I'll go see Crysania now.  It's nice to see you both again.  Give my regards to Caramon for me."_

_He walked off before the other two could say anything else, but not without noticing the knowing look they shared before resuming their argument over the trinket.  Taking the steps two at a time, which he never did and was a matter of note for Tika and Tas, he made his way up to the third floor and the last door on the right.  Quietly, he opened the door and stepped in.  Leaving his staff by the door, he walked over to the bed, which was bathed in moonlight from the open window.  Crysania lay in slumber, her chest rising and falling gently as she breathed.  He caught his own breath, he had almost forgotten what her beauty did to him, and this image in the moonlight captivated his heart.  He sat down on the bed and stroked her cheek with his hand, her warm silky skin sending tremors through him.  Leaning forward, he kissed her gently; and as he did so, she awoke and looked into his eyes.  He was lost in her eyes and the only other thing he knew was her arms around him, bringing him closer…_

Raistlin realized that he was still gazing into Crysania's eyes, and he felt her arms around him, holding him close.  Her warmth was intoxicating.  The way she looked at him was intoxicating as well, could she feel about him the way he felt about her? No, it was his imagination; he was seeing things he wanted to see not what was really there.  But she was so close, and she was warm and her eyes were pulling him in.  What had he gotten himself into? 

_             _


	2. Struggles (part 1)

Raistlin stood rooted to the spot with Crysania's arms around him.  He could not think for himself on anything but her; her eyes pulled him in and her warmth paralyzed him.   He wondered what he had gotten himself into by allowing himself to love her; it very inconveniently got in the way of all his plans.  

He looked into her eyes, deeper than he had originally allowed himself to, and saw mutual feelings there that he had hoped, beyond all hope, would be there.  Taking his hand from her face, he wrapped his arms around her and drew her closer to his body; her warmth all the time seducing him even more, and her beauty drowning him in desire.  The vision he had had moments before, had made him want her even more than he had when he had summoned her to his chambers.  He wanted that, to be loved, to know that wherever he went or whatever he did, he could always come home to her.  She was closer to his body than ever before, and he could feel every curve of her sweet body against his as if it was meant to be.  He could feel how she pressed against him, all the time becoming more apart of him, and how good it felt to have her there.  

The sound of the bells that called all the clerics for evening prayers reminded him of where they were, and that someone was always watching; not to mention the fact that he was here for one purpose and one purpose only.  Visions of his goddess suddenly filled his head, and he felt his body go stiff of its own accord.  He didn't want to leave Crysania's side, but he had a mission, and he had to stay loyal to his goddess.  

_"But you are asking her to be disloyal to HER god." Said a voice in his head. _

'Oh shut up, this is different.  You know the purpose I'm after.'

_"No it's not.  And your purpose doesn't hold a candle to Crysania, you know she has feelings for you and you're asking her to do this without asking it of yourself first."_

Remembering the terrors his goddess could inflict, but confused at the same time about the voice, he made himself become cold.  It hurt him, to see her shock as he suddenly began to push her away, face impassive and cold as ice.  He could hardly bear it, and had to fight to keep his face as impassive as it had started.  Using the trick that Tas loved so much, he let Crysania out, making sure she was out of hearing range before letting out his tears.  The sobs racked his body just as badly as his coughing fits did, and he had to lie down on the bed before anything else.  He let everything come out as much as he could, and when the sobs would not come anymore, he rested.

He wondered the whole time why he had to be so difficult.  Was being a god so important?  Why couldn't he just learn to live like a normal human being with all their faults and confess his love for Crysania and get it over with?  It wasn't that hard. Was it?  Another vision of his goddess answered that question.  He wished with all his might that he had not gone to her side.  The blackness of her evil spanned millennia; and he, a mere mortal, was only a strand in it.

'A strand with a very white streak in it.' He thought somewhat bitterly, 'A streak that, no matter how hard I try to push away, keeps coming back and showing me what life really is.'

He shed his robes, and went to bed, hoping that sleep would slough the worries from his shoulders.  Sleep was a long time in coming; and when it did come, his goddess tormented him in her worst form: the Temptress.  She had Crysania's face, and tormented him the whole night with bodily pleasures.  When he awoke in the morning, he felt drained and could barely walk to the door.

Somehow, he made it to the courtyard of the temple, and stood next to the pond watching the fish swim lazily.  Funny, that they didn't know the danger they were in just being there, that the cataclysm would soon tear them apart.  The sun's rays shone down, and beat down with excessive warmth.  Clerics wandered the courtyard, giving him a wide berth as they still thought he was Fistandantilus.  Hearing a sound behind him, he turned to find himself face to face with Crysania.

Her eyes were sorrowful, and she looked as if she wanted to talk to him.  He could understand why she was so downtrodden, after his change of demeanour yesterday it wasn't surprising.  He wanted to step forward and hold her close, tell her how he felt and that he renounced everything else he was for. Well, except magic, he didn't know if he could do that yet.  Seeing as how they were in public now, he couldn't, so he stood there and looked at her impassively.  His hood was down, and the sun shone off his wavy brown hair.  Looking down at Crysania, he noticed that her robes seemed a little crumpled, as if she had forgotten to take them off the night before; and her hair was slightly tangled.  He stepped closer to her, and she quickly looked up and into his eyes.  Remembering how his heart had melted the day before when she had done this, it was nothing to rival how it broke now to see the hurt in her eyes.  He could not stand it anymore.  Stepping still closer to Crysania, without being intimate, he looked deeply into her eyes; trying to convey, without words, how he felt for her.  He didn't notice Quarath's face in the bushes by the pond.  


End file.
